Paradiso at Gato Negro
by Doughnut of Ericks
Summary: "I am captivated by you." Darien Shields, a man of social status and wealth, was yearning for the companionship of one significant other that very night he entered Gato Negro. Never would he fortell a series of nights where a local chambermaid will claim
1. The First Floor

Paradiso at Gato Negro A Sailor Moon Fanfiction Written by Nikki Miyawaza  
  
Disclaimer: Do you really want me to say the dread words that every fanfic writer loathes to say? Fine, I'll say it. I really do shave my legs. Or was it, "I really wuv my legs?" But honestly, I DO wuv my legs. Sailor Moon, Ruruouni Kenshin does not belong to me, but the doorman who cusses at least once in this chapter does. He's my part-time plumber. You don't know what my pet crocodile puts in the toilet!!! His name is "Snooger."  
  
Chapter I: The First Floor  
  
***  
  
The view was of stars masking the great painting in the sky, full of enigma as it stared at the lowly, mortal skyscrapers in New York. Nothing was more magnificent than this. This paradise available to both the wealthy and the poor, a scenery to bewitch man into submission.  
  
Here was the view from Gato Negro's roof, unknown to anyone, but her.  
  
When she lived as a child in Gato Negro, the daughter of a low-paid butler in a high class hotel, the roof was her only salvation from the cold bantering the adolescents of Gato Negro's guests, the children of middle- aged business who owned prize wives and found pleasure in virgin (not anymore) half of their age and congressmen who, over the years, became too twisted to find integrity in their vocation, the taunting laughter when they flaunted in their seasonal fashions as she walked in second-rate rags. And her father would merely reply, as she came to him with her face in childish tears,  
  
"Child, my dear Serenity, you don't realize that you and they are one and the same. We all feel pain, however there is where the line is crossed. Children like them are rejected and spoiled, wealthy and lonely, while you are loved and happy in these ragged conditions. Don't give them the satisfaction of your tears, for it is you who should be pitying them."  
  
And now, the father that she knows and loves, lies vulnerable in the stark, bare room in King's County Hospital. Once more, Serenity D'Ubervilles was that lonely child, face drowning in salty surrender, even at the fruitful age of 23, looking over the fireflies in office buildings, creating the scene of a world that never seizes to halt.  
  
How was she going to pay for his heart operation, hospital payments, and apartment bills, working as some cheap maid at Gato Negro? Where was she going to earn 20 grand?  
  
This was her father's epic end to the tragedy he lives? And all those damn surgeons, blinded by the cruelty of greed and money, would risk an honorable man's life because payments were not made?  
  
Fuck them!  
  
"But how's that going to help me save Papa from dying?"  
  
However, young D'Ubervilles did not realize the heavy weight and truth in her words.  
  
***  
  
"No, father. This convention in New York City is a highly prized event, and is not considered 'a meeting between smart assholes who talk about bullshit.' If that was true, then I'd live in the fucking convention. I have to go now. Good luck on the campaign."  
  
A highly drawled sigh escaped his lips with velvet anguish. This conflict between his father and himself originated even in the hazy years of childhood. A recollection of regretful moments doused whatever spark of emotion his father claimed to have for his God-given son. Darren Shields, the democratic representative for California, was a man of deep politics. As any proud man of the government, he found some wry satisfaction in delivering new Shields blood into politics, namely cultivating the roots of his respected identity into his son, Darien Shields, to become the second Shields in politics.  
  
Yet, the defiant man of 29 found the medical path as his succession, becoming a renowned surgeon, the epitome of success and ego, high rank and class. His father, however frowned upon this twisted vocation, and the bond between father and son could not find salvation with their differences.  
  
Darien had upon his face a pained expression, marring his handsome features, which he inherited from his father, that wooed women of ages alike and unlike. It was his charm and wealth, or merely his sexual allure, that attracted them like a moth to a cold, stoical flame, and his indifference and lack of commitment that devastated them. Never was he bound to "the ring," or ever will be as he often proclaimed to his beer buddies.  
  
An act of impulse allowed his head to follow the path towards the rooftop of Gato Negro. At that very moment, the world and his conflicts had not existed, nor the jetlag he witnessed during his 13.5 hour flight, beauty caused him to catch his breath, in attempt to find his breath.  
  
She was an astounding creature, with her natural beauty, enrapturing her in a cocoon of mystical wonder. Untouchable in every sense of the world, this golden goddess had her flaxen (almost a lunarian silver hue) tresses play some seductive game with the schoolboy wind, who acted the hormonal victim. Her attire, which should have balanced the indescribable perfection, was one of a servant, even when she should be draped in some Greek mythical toga to complete time's greatest portrait, or upon silk sheets, wearing nothing but the satin skin nature has given her, golden ribbons curling his bed sheets while her siren voice called ecstasy.  
  
{What I'd give to have her in my bed.}  
  
His gorgeous lips smirked in lecherous humor.  
  
Never had such a woman caused the Hunger to replace self-control. However, this unknown siren became the Muse of unspoken erotica, whereas he, as a man and not an indifferent playboy, would give unbound reaches to claim her in his bed, as his own. Only his to witness the sweet honey and taste.  
  
"Mine."  
  
Already his voice owned a husky trait, forced and sexually agitated.  
  
"Where is such a beauty found?"  
  
A statement only meant for America's most notorious Casanova, and within a foolish blink of his eye, no longer was the vision perched on the roof, like the prized nightingale she was. Like an illusion, the goddess of Gato Negro was a creature of neither reality or fantasy.  
  
She was gone, and somehow this unnamed angel from the mundane earth would not leave his senses, despite his efforts to banish such a threat to his masculine pride and shelter from the bind of a demanding wife, a person who could lead him into his state of unhealthy emotion. There, upon the marble steps of Gato Negro, he stood as some Athenian statue to marvel at, which some passerbys, both women and men, did. Still, yet moving, powerful and genuine.  
  
{Damn it, where is she?}  
  
"Sir, is something wrong?" the accent of some native New Yorker rang out form his reverie. The doorman held an expression of professional concern, and Darien replied, in effort to compose himself,  
  
"I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. She will not get to me. I swear it."  
  
The doorman stared strangely at the young surgeon, and as he passed by when the door was opened to the iridescent warmth of the hotel inside, he swore that the balding doorman muttered an incoherent phrase that sounded similar to,  
  
"These rich people today. All that money must have fried their brain into shit."  
  
Ignoring such a comment, Darien Shields could only continue to recall the sight, the hunger, and the restrain of his untamed alter-ego, like the fierce spirit of the Battousai within the comic hero Kenshin Himura known in the manga he loved so dearly when he was younger. So like the legendary manslayer, both characters needed to find some control in the face of women. In his deeply-strung words, laced with annoyance, regret, and lust, he whispered to no one entirely,  
  
"I will find you."  
  
Then he turned his attention to the luggage boy, standing in the corner, most likely an amateur in his field, awaiting the harsh command of the rich and famous. In a voice that spoke of authority, yet respect, Darien asked the boy to bring his luggage to room 206, the Aria Suite.  
  
***  
  
Lost in her vision of reverie, recalling the brief moment that she stole some forbidden capture of some Adonis that graced the unworthy, marble steps of Gato Negro, where as he should have walked a path of god's silk and the clouds, still virgin from the city's arrogant pollution. The distance blurred any pencil-thin details, however is entire embodiment caused a stirring to occur.  
  
[Where do I get one of those? If normal guys looked like that Adonis, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore.]  
  
Lust. She was in heat, and it was his mere presence that caused this? His hair, the hue of hell and all things that belong to fallen angels, it was seductive, intimidating, and raw with power. His eyes, pools of wonder, like an ocean, hidden in the murky depths of the underworld, where the souls are residents of abandoned tragedies in their shipwrecks. They surpassed mortal blue, yet somehow they showed something that never crossed her mind in all her innocent spinster years: the bare ability to be wanton.  
  
To heavily stirred by such an emotion in a brief occurrence, she looked away, hid from his sight, unable to analyze the power of his gaze, a look that penetrated passed the barriers she built amongst her soul, so no other can cause her to wither into nothingness. Yet this one person caused her to become an object of reckless abandon with a mere stare.  
  
"Girl, you have to unpack the luggage for the Aria Suite. Gossip says that some hot-shot playboy is rooming in, and he gives generous tips. If not, if I'm wrong, honey, then just the shot of his fine package is enough for us starving girls. Right? I think he's deserves a A?"  
  
Her notorious partner-in-crime rang out. Molly Estrella has always been the one who keeps her eyes on guys, like some auctioneer and their stock of man slaves. However, even with her recent engagement with a homely man named Melvin Currier, the complete opposite of the grade-A men she stalked (literally), Molly still rates the male guests with accurecy of a movie critic.  
  
"Molly, really? Does it matter if they have a nice package? They are all the same, rich bastards with power, money, and gorgeous bimbos in their minds. I wouldn't be surprised if this one turned out to be married with three wives."  
  
The redhead looked at Serena with a pitying glare, then making an attempt for a wistful shake of the head.  
  
"When did you get to be such a pessimistic bitch? Men aren't that bad, actually they really are quite good. Mmmm."  
  
[OMG. Save me from this un-virgin. I might just take a lesbian lover at this rate.]  
  
"Eeeewwwwww!!! Not my virgin ears, not my virgin eyes. Molly, that is disgusting."  
  
Their conversation led them to the front door of room 206, the Aria Suite. Then Molly turned to Serena with an envious stare with a feather duster in hand as if it was some weapon used for the battle ahead.  
  
"No, what I think is disgusted is how you can be 23 and still a virgin. Hello? Girls are grandmas at that age in New York. Take this duster, and tell me if he wears boxers or briefs. Ciao, Rena."  
  
[Boxers or briefs? Briefs, duh!]  
  
As expected, the Aria Suite was the embodiment of perfection, of convenience, and a world the other side across the partisan line would never dream to witness in their meaningless lives. Sounds hypocritical from a woman girl who is amongst the crowd in rags, but the thought is based on logic and truth.  
  
"People like me would never be able to be in suites like these, but we'll always be the one that makes it pretty. Rather pathetic."  
  
Walking to the master bedroom of the suite, taking slight steps, in taking the primary sights of the suite, due to her extreme "klutziness," Serena lost her footing and landed on the satin sheets of the bed, which felt heavenly, and she would've enveloped herself in the warmth if it wasn't for her task at hand. In attempt to remove herself from the bed, she wrapped the high-quality comforter tightly around her, until the petite little moon bunny was completely enwrapped, unable to escape the surrounding bed sheet.  
  
[Why does this happen to me? What have I done? God! Weehee, look at me. I'm crawling on the floor like some fucking insect.]  
  
With her innovative mind and wry humor, she took the instincts of a caterpillar, and now Serene found herself imitating its appearance as well [Imagine Serena with fat comforters around her so she looked like a fat, pudgy caterpillar]. Crawling she went to his doorknob to somehow find some relief from her situation, then after some wriggling, exhaustion overtook her body and limply, she fell on the suitcases, which was found opened. Nose-first, Serena D'Ubervilles, a woman of dignity, had her face in his underclothes, to find that he wore boxers.  
  
"Boxers! I knew it. They smell good."  
  
Then a voice rang from the merciless heavens, deep and rich, and the beginning of her end.  
  
[Uh-oh. I'm dead now.]  
  
"Thanks. I use Tide."  
  
With weary eyes, cautious and defiant, she looked to her captor, the man who would be the reason Gato Negro would close their doors to her and leave her homeless, heartless, jobless, and money less. If he told about the incident that occurred today . . .  
  
"Hi."  
  
The spawn of Satan replied his wry amusement, his dark eyes staring down upon her like some forgotten pharaoh finding some sick pleasure in his slave's condition.  
  
"Hello there. I believe those are mine."  
  
And the last thing she can remember saying before this chapter ended was . . .  
  
[Who'd you think it belong to, genius? Santa Claus? I'm stuck with a dimwit.]  
  
***  
  
A/N: Love it? Hate it? Or do you just plain love my kawaii-ness? Review, you minions of japanimation and you'll get a life-time supply of manga and anime DVDs!!! Or just annoying hobo at your door asking for a razor to shave his legs. Either one is good for me. Now, seriously. (WHEN THE HELL AM I SERIOUS?) Review, my wittle friends. I wuv you all! *has a sign on the back of her shirt that says "DANGER: WARNING, UNDER ANGER MANAGEMENT"* You won't review . . . YOU WON'T REVIEW?!?! Holy $@#*&! You @#$%&*. Who the @#$% do you think you @#%$^ are? Sorry, please review, my darlings. 


	2. The Second Floor

Paradiso at Gato Negro A Sailor Moon Fanfiction Written by Nikki Miyawaza  
  
Disclaimer: Do you really want me to say the dread words that every fanfic writer loathes to say? Fine, I'll say it. I really do shave my legs. Or was it, "I really wuv my legs?" But honestly, I DO wuv my legs. Sailor Moon, Ruruouni Kenshin does not belong to me, but the doorman who cusses at least once in the other chapter does. He's my part-time plumber. You don't know what my pet crocodile puts in the toilet!!! His name is "Snooger."  
  
A/N: MUY IMPORTANT! POR FAVOR, READ!  
  
{blah, blah} represents Darien's Amusing Thoughts. [blah, blah] represents Serena's Amusing Thoughts.  
  
And, Darien's character might be a wittle conceited, but it's one of his character flaws, and that's what fits in his description as the rich and famous.  
  
Chapter II: The Second Floor  
  
***  
  
And there, as if some adorable caterpillar in the blossoming stage to beauty with wings, lies the goddess he found bewitching on top of his boxers. Her situation made the humanity in her immortal beauty evident, however she still captivated him with her charming wit and innocence. Closer, he could see the hue of her eyes, the most iridescent shade of azure, like being enveloped in the rebirth of nature, spring skies overhead, and the refreshing impact she had upon him.  
  
"Care to explain why you are wrapped in my comforter, and your face is in my underwear?"  
  
Darien expected a submissive, timid reply, considering her status as a chambermaid and lower-class, yet somehow, he receive no bashful replies, but a sarcastic remark.  
  
"You know, I'd love to tell you why my face is in your underwear. But I'm a little preoccupied right now. Being wrapped in satin is a fine way to spend your time, but I think I need to do my job now, so would you mind getting me out of here!?!"  
  
As the last words were said, a bit too headstrong for his tastes, Darien entangled the tiny kitten in caterpillar incognito without the least bit consent for the girl inside the padded comforters, sending Serena in a sore fit about her bruised bum. Patting it ever so gently, this action allowed Darien to see a very satisfying sight of her well-endowed butt.  
  
"Ohh, I hate my butt."  
  
"Now, don't hate something that . . . magnificent."  
  
Insulted, the kitten with rather sharp claws that came with that mouth gave Darien a devastating glare. Then, she gave him the cold shoulder, gathering the satin comforters in her grip, in attempt to make the bed.  
  
However, the surgeons disliked her distance that emitted from her anger towards their first impression. Startling her into her frozen state of body, his strong arms gathered her petite figure into a loving embrace, meant for sexually teasing, not a sign of affection, and with those limbs came his chin upon the juncture where her shoulder and neck meets. His breath was spider-like fingers upon her skin, and with every breath he took, she gave the tantalizing response of closed eyes and a shiver across the length of her spine.  
  
"Mewl." Her sudden purr caused both parties to stiffen, one surprised and embarrassed, the other brimming in testosterone and male-pride.  
  
Already, Serena could feel his arrogant smile hidden in her skin, but could only concentrate on the pooling of sparks in her lower abdomen. Never had she felt this way with any man. Never was she this sexually frustrated. However, Darien wasn't in a better condition. Her slight responses caused him to groan in frustration, which instead of seducing her into submission, it back-stabbed him ruthlessly.  
  
Never had the playboy doctor desired to take any woman without thought or control as he needed with this beautiful chambermaid. Never would he take his own pleasure before hers, but all Darien could fantasize was drowning in her warmth, repeatedly in the stark hours at night and the dawning minutes of morning.  
  
"I . . . d-don't th-think . . . you sh-should . . . d-do th-that." Was her primary weak response.  
  
"But you should get angry with me, my little kitten. Please forgive me." With every word spoken, his lips trailed her skin, starting from the baby- soft areas of her collarbone to the feathery skin on her ear, leathery and insatiable. He took in her scent, for it flooded his senses, ransoming his self-control and leaving the man vulnerable to her spellbound. French vanilla.  
  
His tongue could not resist from tasting the soft skin on her velvet ears, which Serena gave her response with an "EEP." The lips were tingling from temptation, brushing against her ears when he spoke.  
  
"I won't tell. Unless, a deal is made between you and me."  
  
{Why the HELL do I want this deal anyway? It isn't human to ask a stranger to be your companion. It isn't human to have this familiarity with someone whose face you've never encountered until today, and to feel sudden protection and emotional vulnerability towards this one individual. Then why am I acting outside the human boundaries?}  
  
However, despite his mind debating against his heart, the flaxen-haired pixie left her presence everywhere upon his skin. All that he could perceive was her alluring scent, that wonderful, sarcastic grin, and her aloof sensuality. She was everywhere on his skin. He could smell her, taste her, and then, Darien knew that he could not afford to lose this treasure within his grasp. If only he could slate his thirsts for this bewitching siren enough, in bed and in life, if only he can envelope himself in her precious warmth enough, then the naive playboy could merely walk away, satisfied for the rest of his pitiful life. So this he thought . . .  
  
At this, the young chambermaid turned swiftly to face the towering 6'5, squarely and intimidating as if she was much taller than he. She took her feminine wrist, swung it back, and punched him firmly on his cheek. However surprised, Darien did not falter, merely looking down upon the tiny kitten with wide eyes. He, in the many years he's existed as Darien Shields, has been punched by any man or woman on the living earth. And yet, this little woman-girl somehow gave him his first punch.  
  
"If you ever think I'm going to act as your little dirty whore, think again, asshole! Just because you are wealthy and good-looking, doesn't mean I'll submit to you, losing dignity and the only integrity in this whole fucking world."  
  
Still immobile was his eyes staring bewildered at the ranting chambermaid goddess, until he threw his head back and laughed whole-heartedly. To the tiny chambermaid, it was a marvelous sight, the epitome of genuine maleness and beauty becoming one man, one body of superior greatness. May she gawk or drool over such a sight, but men with these looks only come once in the bluest moon. Unknowingly, she took a brief look at the moon. It was an ordinary lunarian sight, nothing blue about it.  
  
Once his laughter was quenched, his arms once again appeared, circling her waist, which was the envy of all women, for it was small and curved, fitting in the mass of his hands.  
  
"Dear kitten, I don't want you to be my whore, per se. I am in need of a companion, someone who I can have conversations with and enjoy my evening in her presence. Maybe a few kisses here and there. If you want to be my mistress, then it will be your move, for I won't touch you. Though it might kill me in the end. Unlike your popular belief, others do hold some integrity in them."  
  
It was then Serena gazed up at him with skeptical eyes. [Is this guy for real?]  
  
"What makes you think I want to be your companion?"  
  
{Excellent question. What makes her want to be my companion? Except I'm beautiful and wealthy and charming . . . }  
  
"You can have anything you desire, within boundaries." [Anything I desire? Is this what God sent me from heaven to relieve my hospital payments? Couldn't he just send me a brick of $20K falling from the sky, falling on my head, and sending me into a temporary comatose? It would have been easier.]  
  
"Anything? Does that mean I can have $20K before next week?"  
  
"Would you like to tell me why?"  
  
"Not really. So I wouldn't mind it if you just gave the money. But there is a few exceptions. Number one: You are allowed to do anything with me that doesn't concern murder, killing, anything illegal, lying, cheating, and sex."  
  
"You sure you don't want to consider the last one?"  
  
"Damn bastard."  
  
"No, my mother was married before she had me. And one more exception, you call me master, my little kitten."  
  
Serena gave him a stare, trying to find some sanity left within this demented guest. How within 30 minutes, she became the companion of some conceited, witty bachelor with looks to spare.  
  
"Don't think so, pig."  
  
Then at the final words spoken at "pig," his lips descended down to her tiny brush-stroked lips, as if they were painted in some celestial portrait, succeeding in what no man has ventured off before. Into the spell- binding web that he conjured for the tiny miss in attempt to slate his insatiable lust that traveled his veins, causing him to an almost devastating shake. The presumptuous playboy was shaking, and somehow it was as if he became the victim to his own deceit.  
  
Her taste was unlike any other maiden that graced his path, strutting their well-endowed goods as if some prize to feast upon. It was of innocence and pure grace, and this caused him to envelope himself into her warmth, deeper. Stroking tenderly, there was no urgency in this kiss, no indifferent lust that came fast and overwhelming. Yet, has there been any other man who took her as he did?  
  
Such a thought commanded that devilish lips of his to become passionate fires of fury, demanding and passionate, as if the very idea had brought incontrollable rage into his life. Who could touch her, taste her entire innocence without corrupting the vestal virgin within? Even a man like himself, could taint, could shatter that fragile porcelain this perfection was created from.  
  
"Just sampling a taste, is all."  
  
Under lust filled eyelids, she stared in a stupor over the occurrences that took place before.  
  
"No-no. It will be your first and last taste. No kisses."  
  
In attempt to control the boiling rage under his protected emotions, he muffled his near-escaping growl.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
It took within a few moments for her response to come, as if she was heavied by doubt and temptation. Her skepticism got better of her however, to his downfall.  
  
"Yes, sir. I'm a companion, and not a whore as you say."  
  
{How dare she defy me? Me?!?! Of all people?}  
  
With her final word, he watched as she took uneven steps to the door and closed her passageway to my room. It was then Darien could unleash the building anger and lust in his system, throwing his lantern out the window, clearly not in the mental process of life without a light. His head rested, partly from exhaustion, on the soft satins of the bed, while his hands were unrestless, disfiguring the cloth in the fist of his hand. Pants uneven and rugged.  
  
{I will make her come to me. And when I do, she will be the one begging for my touch, then and there, will she know who is her master.}  
  
When senses came to him, he called room service,  
  
"Err, room service. It's Shields from the Aria Suite. Can you deliver a lamp to the suite?"  
  
A momentary pause.  
  
"What do you mean you don't have lamps for room service?  
  
Another momentary pause.  
  
"People don't normally ask for lamps? What kind of men are you serving?"  
  
Both men of inconsistent tempers, the phone dial was a solitary noise amongst the silence, and with silence, the pitch darkness was its companion. With nothing to do under the blind blanket of night, his composure slumped against the bed pillows, another soul visiting the brief nirvana, the land of Nod, where lanterns were valued as objects of service and teasing virgins such as his little kitten offered herself completely. Of course, the world and slumber were opposites in existence, one of reality, and the other fantasy.  
  
***  
  
A/N: How do you like? I get more insane by the minute! Next chapter involves birds; that's all I can say. I think, maybe not. But in the end, everything is about birds. Of course, d'oh. Well, in some terms, even it is glorious summer vacation, the heat wave my town's been getting is so . . . GRR! I'm sweating at night, in the morning, in the afternoon, in the toilet, next to the fridge, everywhere! Even my beloved computer is no safe haven from the heat. So I try to type as much as I can, but I'm always so slow, and I write my chapters on paper first, and then edit it on the computer, and then retype it again, so DON'T EXPECT THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL NEXT, NEXT WEEK . . . OR MAYBE SOMETIME NEXT WEEK! So, please, have some faith towards me. You know you wuv me.  
  
Chao, Babes!  
  
Love Lots, Nikki Miyawaza, or Ikki 


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